


The Casino

by Snekki_Boi



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Explicit Language, Fluff, How Do I Tag, Other, POV Third Person, Post-Apocalypse, Self-harm kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-12 22:30:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20571989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snekki_Boi/pseuds/Snekki_Boi
Summary: At precisely three in the morning in a corner of Soho, a small casino opened. And to most everyone's knowledge, it has always been there. But that's not really the case and this worries the local pair of supernatural entities.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Why are you here? What am I doing with my life?

The smell of cigar smoke and alcohol hung thickly in the air. The common bustle of people was muted into the pinging slot machines and the clink of coins and chips and glasses and the periodic shout of frustration or cheer. If you squinted, the staff looked hazy and maybe they weren't even human, but the smile they gave seemed friendly enough and the gleam in their eyes could have just as easily been the cold lights in the casino. Everything seemed awash with crimson velvet, as if the very place was sin itself. In a way, it was. 

Slinking around the room ever so smoothly, almost gliding, was a woman clad in glittering black. Her sharp eyes were shifting from one table of cards to the next. And she knew that despite her alluring outfit, no one paid her much attention. That was what she wanted, after all. She grabbed a tumbler of whiskey as a server walked by, sipping it daintily with a flick of her tongue. Then when the double doors of the casino opened, her eyes snapped up to see the presence of two strong smelling men. 

Aziraphale, dressed in his usual creme colors, looked sorely out of place with how horrified he seemed by the place. But Crowley, arm hooked around his angel protectively, seemed to naturally fit in with the crowd of gamblers. They were an odd pair, but nobody paid them much attention except the servers. 

"It smells positively dreadful in here," Aziraphale said with a frown as he scooted closer to Crowley. 

"That would be the cocky men not-so-discretely touching the female staff," Crowley replied, disgusted. "Think we would've noticed this place beforehand if it's this bad. I'd blame my lot, but I know how cleverly stupid humans can be on their own." 

"You don't think we might've... stepped into a trap, did we?" Azirphale whispered, scooting so close to Crowley that his chest was against his back. "You don't think they might've found out?" 

The demon placed a hand on Aziraphale's shoulder and reluctantly pushed him aside. "No." He sounded unconvinced. "Couldn't have. But anyways, we better move. It's far too awkward that we're seen standing around doing no-" 

"May I help you, gentlemen?" The woman approached them with a smirk, dress hem shifting just below her knees. "You must be new to this casino." 

"Oh, why yes, I suppose we are," Aziraphale said. "Er, how long has this establishment been here? I'm afraid I don't remember ever noticing it." 

Her smirk grew just the slightest. "Of course. But this place has been here for a long while. Feel free to enjoy any drinks, foods, or games. There's currency exchange at the table over there next to the bar, should you need it." She narrowed her eyes. "But you wouldn't need a currency exchange station, would you, dove?" 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Crowley hissed, tugging Aziraphale back towards him. "Who are you?" 

A cheer from the background rose up in pitch. Someone had just gotten a desirable result in roulette and people were crowding. 

"Ebony," she says, extending a perfectly manicured hand. "My name is Ebony. Welcome to my casino, gentlemen." 

They didn't shake her hand. She wasn't fazed, merely lowered her hand. And carefully, she took a step toward Aziraphale. Crowley seemed ready to throw a punch at her, but Aziraphale shot him a look. Ebony grinned, as if she couldn't understand the concept of frowning, and leaned into the angel's ear. 

"For someone so divine, you reek of unholy lust," she growled, eyes flickering to meet Crowley's sunglasses knowingly. "But I don't judge. That's more of your kind's job, isn't it, Angel?" 

Crowley slammed her back into the wall, snarling, "You stay the hell away from him!" 

"Crowley!" Aziraphale cried in shock. 

Ebony chuckled lightly, amused. Nobody else in the room seemed remotely interested in the scene. 

"If you want a fight, you'll have to find it elsewhere," Ebony said, eyes losing their pupils to darkness. "I've long since given up on fighting. But if you want to hurt me - want to _break_ me - then you had better not disappoint." Her voice deepened and she licked her lips. 

Crowley stiffened, staring at her in clear confusion. Just what the hell was she saying? "What the fuck are you?" was all he could manage. 

She shrugged. "I'm whatever you want me to be. Your friend, your foe, your fuck-buddy, your therapist, your nothing." 

"Are you from Down Below?" Aziraphale asked. 

Ebony cocked her head to the side, smile still on her lips. She was on tiptoes from being pinned to the wall, but she looked as though she were standing perfectly naturally on her own. "I've nothing to do with Heaven and Hell, if that's what you're asking. I doubt either of you would believe anything I say." 

"Damn right," Crowley spat. 

"But still, I say that whatever trouble you two are in with the sides, I am no part of it. I never have been nor will I ever be." 

Before anyone could speak any more, a shriek rang through the room. A man had caught onto a girl's skirt and was fighting to pull her into him. 

"Hey! Stop him!" Crowley shouted to no one in particular, hesitating whether to jump in.

Nobody did anything. 

"Why isn't... What's happening? Why's no one doing anything?" Aziraphale asked, looking around the room. 

Ebony easily slid out of Crowley's hold and approached the man with the leisure of a king. She placed a hand on his arm and beamed her signature stuck-on smile. "I'm afraid that disturbing another customer's night is highly unethical, sir. Won't you please seek a different pleasure?" 

"The fuck you say to me?" He shouted, words almost slurring. "Who the hell are you to tell me what to do, bitch?! If you don't want trouble, piss off!" 

Aziraphale and Crowley watched in stunned confusion as Ebony sighed. "Sir, I must insist you leave if you cannot-" 

The first blow knocked her down. She didn't react, didn't even wince. She tried to get up only to be knocked down again, cheek bruising and lip bleeding. 

"Fucking bitch." The man spat on her and kicked her in the rib, stumbling to catch his footing. "Fucking... useless bitch." 

Ebony stretched her jaw, testily popping the joints with her hand to make sure it wasn't broken. "Sir. I must insist that you leave my casino if you cannot behave yourself." 

Scoffing and glaring, he made a fist into her dress collar and yanked her forward, punching her in the gut. She keeled over and coughed. That's when he decided he had had enough and dropped her carelessly to the carpeted floor and stumbled drunkenly out the door. Nobody did anything. Nobody seemed to care. Somewhere in the slot machine rows, a man cursed loudly at his loss. 

Ebony stood, wiping the blood off her lips. The girl she had saved rushed back to her table of poker, scrambling to take chips out of her purse. 

"What the fuck did I just witness?" Crowley said, staring at Ebony warily. "What the f- What just happened?" 

Aziraphale couldn't even speak. He could have said, "Are you alright?" or "Let me heal those for you!" or "Why did you do all that?" but he remained silent, words caught in a daze. 

"It's late," Ebony said casually, as though nothing ever happened. "You two should head home." 

"Not until you tell me what the hell I just saw!" Crowley all but shouted, eyebrow twitching with irritation. 

Ebony procured a clean white handkerchief from thin air and dabbed at her lips. She took a tumbler of whiskey from a passing server and sipped it daintily. After a moment of silence, swirling the whiskey in her glass thoughtfully, she said, "This casino is my den of complacency. All who seek pleasure in here will see nothing but their own pleasure until I say so. In other words, it's sloth and greed and lust and all else that anyone wants. Desire is a fascinating thing from humans. You can find it all here. You can stay forever if you so wish. You can leave whenever you want. The doors never close. And if you choose to wile away your life, drowning in pleasure, then why should I stop you?" 

Aziraphale covered his mouth like he had heard a child say a bad word. 

"Why?" Crowley said. "I mean, you contradicted yourself anyways because you just stopped a perverted drunk from forcefully trying to get into a woman's skirt - commendable, I suppose - but why would you do all this?" 

"Because I can," Ebony said with a shrug. "And I won't stand in your way of pleasure so long as it does not cause displeasure to another. In which case, you are not welcomed. But you two can come and go as you please, do whatever you so wish so long that it isn't a displeasure to others. If you find you need me for any reason" - she suddenly dropped her voice - "and I do mean _any reason at all_" - she spoke normally again, "I'll always be here." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Crowley mumbled, but he was starting to feel tired. He wanted nothing more than to just curl up in bed, holding his angel close, and indulge in the unnecessary act of sleeping. 

"Crowley," Aziraphale said softly. "I think we should go." 

Ebony said nothing as Crowley absently nodded and followed his angel out. She sipped her whiskey daintily with a smile. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still here? Welcome back. Pull up a chair.

Ebony looked into the body mirror, eyes almost slit-pupils. Her bare skin was deathly pale. No, not snow-white beauty pale. More like dead under fluorescent lights pale. She turned sideways to look at her back in the mirror, staring intensely at the two deep jagged cuts intersecting her shoulder blades. They were more faded than she had remembered, but not enough to be discreet. If anyone lifted her shirt or dress, they'd immediately see them. Ebony sighed at the thought and went to retrieve a purple dress from her bed. She liked that one - her second favorite. It was a gift from someone's name she had lost centuries ago. Perhaps a lover, perhaps a close friend, perhaps just a fling. She couldn't remember anymore. Her memories grew hazier everyday. The cost of imperfect immortality, she supposed. 

"What beautiful weather," she murmured by the window as she slipped on the silky dress. It was raining, water droplets tapping miserably on the glass pane. No sunlight in sight. "Lovely," she said absently, touching a hand to the cold glass. "Lovely." 

No one in their right mind would walk through the streets of London during a downpour without, at least, an umbrella. Ebony did. Her hair was soaked through, a mass of raven clumps curled chaotically over her shoulders. Her dress stuck to her body. She was barefooted, too, feeling the collecting puddles and slapping rain as she walked. Ebony was, as always, smiling. She paused when she saw a black Bentley pull up precariously at the curb of a musty-looking bookshop. 

Out came Crowley, rushing inside the door to avoid the rain. He stayed miraculously dry. Aziraphale practically glowed at the sight of him. 

"Bloody wrong with this weather? Hasn't rained in so long and suddenly a downpour?" Crowley said bitterly. "Smells like a miracle." 

Aziraphale chuckled. "I quite thought it was you who did this. But I see now it's not." He held out a steaming cup on a saucer. "Tea, my dear?" 

"I'd prefer something stronger," Crowley said, dropping dramatically onto Aziraphale's couch. "I've a blasted headache that won't go away!" 

"A headache?" Aziraphale asked curiously as he retrieved a fine bottle of chardonnay and two glasses. "Can't you just... get rid of it?" 

Crowley scoffed. "I'll get rid of it, alright. Hand me a bloody glass and that should sort it." 

The angel exhaled exasperatedly through his nose but handed over a glass as per request. And by the pass of an hour, two empty bottles sat on the table while a third was halfway finished. Crowley put his dangerously sloshing glass on the table and rolled onto his side. 

"You know that- that- the round?" 

"Round?" Aziraphale muttered, sipping his glass. "Circles?" 

"No, no. Round... er, round corner." Crowley shook his head. "That bloody... thing! Round! Cards!" 

"Casino?" Aziraphale suggested. 

"Yeah, whatever! Casino, woman. You know, I expected scantily-clad dancers and a-a pool or such, but what the fuck does casinos have to do with a masochistic, smiling entity? Mad, the lot of them! The lot!" 

Aziraphale nodded, but it didn't seem like he fully understood what Crowley was saying. "Interesting, her." 

"Weird," Crowley corrected. "No, weird. No, mad! Bonkers! Who the hell goes around getting pu-punched like a pope in... in... wherever the hell that sentence was going." Crowley was gesturing with his arms animatedly but he stopped to take another drink from his glass. He decided then that that was enough. "Didn't even see bubbles floating around the place. Might have some trampolines for children." 

"Smoke kills children, Crowley." 

"Smoke kills everyone, angel!" 

"What are we talking about?" Aziraphale finally asked, setting aside his glass with two attempts. 

"Ebb- Ee- ib- Ebony." Crowley's brows furrowed. "Wasn't she someone in that somewhere with that thing?" 

Aziraphale shrugged. "Possibly. Maybe. Like... like the... girl with the-" 

"Goat!" Crowley exclaimed in triumph. "A goat! Yes!" 

"Goat?" Aziraphale's brows furrowed in concentration. "Thought it was a wolf." 

"Vulpine, actually." 

Crowley glared at the door, more to focus than anything. "Shit." 

Ebony looked over the two, eyes sparkling. "An inebriated Angel talking with his inebriated demon. Maybe now I've seen it all." 

"How long have you been" - Aziraphale waved a vague finger - "standing there?" 

"A short while. May I join you?" 

"Piss off," Crowley grumbled. 

Ebony nodded. "If that's what you want." 

Crowley stood up suddenly and stumbled on his feet like a toddler that didn't know how to walk. "What I want is to know why you're so bloody weird! Sssset up in the early morning and then ssssaying shit like you say!" His serpentine tongue was beginning to mix into the slur of his drunken words. 

"Drunk," Aziraphale said, rubbing his temples. "Crowley, Crowley." 

"What? What?" He almost tripped over his own feet. 

"Drunk," he repeated. "I mean, not drunk. You know." 

Ebony looked amused. "You mean, sober up?" 

The angel snapped his fingers sloppily. "Yes! That's it!" 

"Oh, fine. Whatever you want, angel," Crowley near whispered as he started pulling the alcohol from his system. 

Aziraphale did the same, refilling the two and a half bottles. 

"Oh, fuck!" Crowley dropped backwards onto the couch, groaning. "Shit... that hurts. Must've overdone it." 

"Easy, darling," Aziraphale soothed, running a hand through his hair. 

Crowley leaned instinctively into the angel's cool touch. 

"I do hope that's not a daily thing," Ebony said. "Doesn't seem too pleasant." 

"Piss off," Crowley said again. 

"Ebony," Aziraphale jumped in. "I think it would be best for Crowley - and my own curiosity, in all honesty - if you'd explain yourself to us. I've still trouble understanding what exactly happened the other night and who exactly you are." 

She nodded, looking around the bookshop. It was as though she was searching for something. No one said anything for a moment. Then Ebony walked up to a moldy bookshelf and took a single, dusty tome from its residence. She blew the thick layers of grime off the cover before flipping open the putrid-smelling book. 

"Um," Aziraphale began. "_The Handbook for First Species in Creation_?" 

"Can't believe you kept that," Crowley mumbled. "Heaven's issue. Nobody ever reads them. Don't know why they bother." 

Ebony turned the book pages toward the couple, pointing to the explanation of a red fox with a picture above the text. 

"That's you?" Crowley guessed. 

She laughed. "No, Crowley. It's my creation. I helped make the first fox, just like you helped make the stars. Turns out, foxes adopted my traits of mischief." Ebony turned the book back around, stroking the page fondly. "I loved it so. Still do. And because of that, everyone believes I'd become one once I had Fallen." 

"Fallen?" Aziraphale breathed softly. "So you are with..." He gestured to the ground. 

Ebony shook her head. "No. I'm of neither Heaven nor Hell." 

"That's impossible! You can't be... _neither_!" Crowley said. 

"Then what are you?" 

Crowley opened his mouth then shut it when he realized he did not know how to answer that. 

"But that's different," Aziraphale said. "We were... anomalous. The apocalypse and the- the trials!" 

Ebony suddenly looked tired, but that smile never left her face. "Yes. Trials." She closed the book and slipped it back into the shelf. "I never got one. I Fell on accident. A joke gone so, so wrong. Horribly wrong. It wasn't... wasn't my fault. It wasn't. It can't have been. But I Fell anyways. Heaven didn't want me back and Hell didn't accept me. So I was forced into this body and... forgotten." She tugged her dress over and slipped out of it. 

Aziraphale made a noise that could only be described as a squeak and covered his eyes. Crowley just stared at her, confused. She turned her back to them and showed off the two deep scars. 

"I didn't understand," she whispered. "I couldn't understand. I tried. I tried! I really did! I didn't understand! Why don't I belong anywhere? Why couldn't I belong anywhere? With wings in a wingless race, with powers in a powerless world. I think I... went a little mad. I think I stopped trying to understand. I think I... forgot who I was, who I am." 

Aziraphale lowered his hands, eyes widened with shock and pity. "Oh. Oh, you poor thing." 

"Cut your own wings to fit in," Crowley mumbled to himself, trying to process what she was saying. "Ridiculous. Absurd." He sounded more upset than condescending. 

"May I?" Aziraphale asked, standing. 

Ebony nodded. Tentatively, the angel reached for her back. His cold fingers traced the jagged lines, inspecting them as if they were a newly discovered concept. Which, really to him, they were. Ebony sighed at the touch, closing her eyes. Aziraphale leaned closer, pressing his fingers just the slightest more into her skin. 

"It's... hot," Aziraphale said. "Nearly burning." 

"Can you... can you heal it?" Crowley asked, stepping closer. "A miracle, perhaps?" 

"I don't know," Aziraphale admitted, looking up at Ebony. 

"You're welcome to try," she said. "I don't quite care anymore what anyone does to my body." 

Aziraphale frowned but said nothing more. He pressed his palm into her back, where the crook of both blades nearly met. A holy glow shined over her skin and Ebony immediately doubled over, hissing through her teeth. She curled into herself, whimpering. A burn blistered her back, singeing her flesh. 

"Shit!" Crowley cursed. "She's Fallen!" 

Aziraphale covered his mouth in horror. "Oh, dear! I-I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry!" 

"It's alright," she croaked. "It's alright. I'm alright." 

Crowley approached her and ran a gentle hand over the burn. Ebony hissed again as heat covered the wound then dissipated into cold, smokey sensations along her spine. 

"Fuck," she mumbled, feeling weak. "That was a first. At least take me to dinner first." 

"Shut up," Crowley said, slightly amused. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ONE ANGSTY BOI 
> 
> This is a reminder that you should look at the time and make sure to sleep if it's early in the morning or late at night.


	3. Chapter 3

Ebony stayed beneath tartan sheets and plush pillows that were just a little too soft for her. She was honestly more used to sleeping on the floor, but she didn't feel like bringing that to light. 

In the other room, Aziraphale was sipping cocoa and glancing at the window. 

"Storm," Crowley said, hanging upside down over the couch. "I'm not going anywhere in this." 

"Just as well," Aziraphale said happily. 

The demon flushed and looked away. 

"I better check up on Ebony." Aziraphale put down the cup and walked into his room, knocking lightly on the opened door. 

"Dove," Ebony greeted, taken with the nickname. 

"Everything alright?" 

She nodded. "Just a little tired. But the thunder sounds pretty, and I do like the streaks of light in the sky." 

"Lightning? You like this weather?" 

Another nod. "I can't remember why. I suppose it's like the sky's crying. Maybe, just maybe, I can make myself believe that the sky is crying for me." 

Boom, thunder roared. Crash, boom. It was definitely a storm. The room was illuminated for a moment like a flash grenade had gone off. Ebony closed her eyes, seeing light behind her eyelids and a figure reaching for her. No, not reaching. She opened her eyes, smiling. Not reaching. Pushing. 

"Ebony?" Aziraphale called. 

"Hm?" 

"Would you like some cocoa?" 

Ebony sat up, shuddering. "I'd like to sleep." 

"Oh. Well, that's alright. I'll just lea-" 

"With you." Ebony adjusted the sheets. "And Crowley." 

"Pardon?" 

"I want to sleep with you and Crowley. You're both... warm. And I've always wanted to feel how it would be like to sleep with friends." She shifted. "Well, anyways, if you consider yourself my friend. That's not something I really decide for you." 

"Why, yes. I'm your friend." Aziraphale grinned. 

"A stupid idea," Crowley said, walking towards them. "Stupid, but I suppose not the worst." 

"Darling?" 

"I plan to sleep anyways. Why not?" 

Ebony smiled, of course. Like always. She waits patiently for the couple to slip into bed, curling into each other. Politely, she scooted a few inches away from them - the farthest the bed allowed her to scoot, and buried herself under the covers. 

"You asleep?" Crowley asked a moment later. 

"Not really," Aziraphale muttered back. 

"No," Ebony agreed. 

"Wonderful," Crowley growled sarcastically. "Can't even sleep." 

Ebony stuck her head out of the covers. "Why don't you read us a story, Aziraphale? A book of your choice," she suggested. 

"Read?" Aziraphale murmured. 

"Not a bad idea," Crowley said, smiling. 

"Well, alright. If you insist." Aziraphale thought for a moment before miracle-ing a book into his hand. "Right!" 

Ebony instinctively got closer as Aziraphale began to read. After fifteen pages, her eyes were heavy. After twenty-nine, she was asleep. But Aziraphale kept reading aloud, enchanted by the pages. And slowly, his enchantment spelled him to drowsiness that eventually lulled him into slumber. The pitter patter of rain soothing and the thunder distant and the lightning not so harsh. They were veins of comfort and reminder of peace and the fact that the world was still alive. Armageddon didn't happen. There was no apocalypse. They were all alive. And Crowley was happily snuggled into his angel's arm, warmed by the presence of a fellow Fallen that seemed a little close but not too close. 

It wasn't perfect, but it just was. And for now, that was enough. 

Ebony stirred and woke to the tight embrace of Crowley and Aziraphale. Somehow, she had gotten between the two and they were holding onto each other. Their faces were serene in sleep and their bodies seemed relaxed, for once. In all the world, nothing could have compared to just the look of two beautiful beings that held nothing but love for each other. Ebony felt as though she was imposing. She wasn't there when they got together. She had only met them days ago. 

Unfair, she thought to herself. Unfair of her. She can't ruin this for them! 

Just then Aziraphale groaned lightly and peeked a groggy eye open. "My dear. You're awake." 

My dear? Did he really just call her "my dear"? She kept her smile perfectly in place. "You as well, I see." 

"Go- Sata- Ugh, _Somebody_, you two don't know how to shut up, do you?" Crowley grumbled. But there was fondness in his gravelly voice. 

"Sorry," they apologized. 

"How long were we out for?" Ebony asked, squinting up at the window. Grey sunlight was streaming in through the silky curtains that no doubt were Crowley's idea. 

"A full day, it seems," Aziraphale said, sitting up. 

Crowley stuffed his face into his neck. "Angel, don't get up. It's too fucking cold." 

He chuckled and pressed a light kiss to his temple. "How about a cup of tea to warm you up?" 

"Breakfast, too?" Ebony asked. 

"Yes, breakfast sounds delightful," the angel agreed. 

Crowley made a noise in his throat that sounded between a whine and a groan. 

Aziraphale sighed. "Alright, how about this? Stay in bed with Ebony, Crowley, and I'll go make our breakfast." 

"But I don't want you to go," he said, clinging onto him, 

"Come now, Crowley. Don't be difficult." But Aziraphale looked highly amused and even affectionate. "It will only take a moment." 

And then it was just Crowley and Ebony in bed. 

"Had a good sleep?" Ebony tried awkwardly to spark conversation. 

"Fine as any other occult entity, I suppose. But... well, actually, better because I had company." 

She nodded. 

Crowley turned to face her, eyeing her with his golden serpentine eyes. And suddenly, Ebony felt bare beneath his gaze. 

"You seem uncomfortable," Crowley said. "Something you want to tell me, or ought to?" 

Ebony fiddled with the sheet. She opened her mouth, lost her words, closed her mouth, then opened it again when she recollected herself. "I suppose it was rather brash of me to ask for something so intimate as to sleep in the same bed as you two. In moments, I forget what desires are acceptable to surface and what desires should be kept inside." 

He shrugged. "It's alright, I suppose. Aziraphale doesn't seem to mind. I don't really either." 

"But aren't I... intruding?" Ebony hugged her sides absently. 

"Not really _intruding_, no. More like... invited. You're a different sort. I mean, you're still absolutely mad, but I don't think either of us minds you. After all, we're your friends." Crowley made a gagging noise. "Oh, fuck. I can't believe I just called myself a friend." 

Ebony giggled and then Aziraphale was calling them out for breakfast. 

"Absolutely scrumptious," Aziraphale said adamantly, dabbing his mouth with a linen napkin. 

"Is he always like that?" Ebony asked with a quirked brow, finishing the last of her tea. 

"Yes," Crowley said, staring at him. "Every time. He's a joy to watch." 

Aziraphale's cheeks bloomed rosy. "Oh, stop it, you wily old serpent! None of your tempting, now." 

"Tempting? I'm doing nothing of the sort." He smirked. "I think you're the one doing the tempting, angel." 

Ebony looked at Aziraphale. "Crowley's right. I think you are tempting us, angel."

And in a moment, a stilled moment of what felt like grating glass shards to Ebony, time seemed to tense. She had gone and blurted out another desire that she was sure was supposed to be kept inside. But it was a tease. She clung to the hope that they passed it for a joke. 

"Even she agrees with me, angel," Crowley said smugly. 

"You both are being ridiculous," he huffed. "Are we finished?" 

"Yes," Crowley answered for them. 

Ebony looked outside and took a deep breath. Her back started to sting from invisible pains that ran beneath her skin. She shuddered, but not from cold. "I think it's time I returned to my casino." 

"Already?" Aziraphale asked, somewhat disappointed but that could've been just the imagination. 

"It doesn't function correctly without me. And I had better make sure that no one's displeased by another." 

Crowley stood. "Just promise me one thing, Ebony." 

She looked up at him, staring into his serpentine eyes and finding herself admiring them. "What is it?" 

"Be more careful," he said softly. "Don't get hurt anymore. I don't know why you do it, but it doesn't seem" - he cleared his throat, stuffing his hands into his pockets - "well, practical. You know. Not good business or professionalism or whatever." 

Ebony sensed the concern beneath his words. She felt something in her chest. Was that her heart? Strange. It was beating fast, but it wasn't adrenaline from getting punched or beat. No, it was... better. She liked it. With a nod and a fond smile, she thanked both Aziraphale and Crowley and bid them goodbye, leaving with a spring in her step. 

**Author's Note:**

> You finished this chapter? Holy shit; what are you doing with your life? Whatever it is, keep going. I support you, random reader!


End file.
